Prince Harry is a natural TV presenter. If he ever gives up being royal, he’ll put Ben Fogle out of a job — Harry has that telly sparkle, laughing at himself as he makes impossible tasks look easy.

Producers would be spilling over with shows for him — how about Harry Hitchhikes America, or Harry vs The Elephant Poachers, or simply Harry’s England? Imagine the ratings!

However, one format that won’t suit him,we learned on Harry At 30 (ITV), is cookery. In Afghanistan, we watched him mixing up a high-energy snack in an aluminium mess tin, of broken biscuits, jam and margarine. He won’t win MasterChef with that.

Harry and Usain Bolt before the prince left the athlete in the starting blocks

He retains a deep mistrust of all reporters and cameras, never forgetting the paparazzi who hounded his mother and ultimately may have contributed to her death.

But he’s a master of media. Remember how easily he upstaged Usain Bolt in Jamaica, challenging him to a race and then setting off at a sprint while the fastest man on earth was still posing for the photographers.

And clips of him with his brother, exchanging banter, emphasised his quick wit. There were the two of them, in helicopter pilots’ gear, with William gamely cracking a couple of jokes with the press about how he was the good-looking one.

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Aged 14, stay-at-home Stacey from a Derbyshire village had been to a city only once in her life, last time she talked to the cameras in 2007.

Now, as 21Up (BBC One) revealed, she’s teaching English in south China, one of the most populous places on Earth. Good for her!

Harry just rolled his eyes a little, raised a hand to his mouth and coughed one word: ‘Bald!’

There were no new interviews with Harry for this documentary, to mark his 30th birthday later this month. Archive footage made it clear that the only time he volunteers to talk to the media is when he’s promoting a charity, such as his trek to the Antarctic for Walking With The Wounded, or his mission in Lesotho, South Africa, to help Aids orphans.

His foundation was set up in Diana’s memory, and it’s called Sentebale: its ambassador, the singer Joss Stone, revealed the name means Forget-Me-Not.

Remember how easily he upstaged Usain Bolt in Jamaica, challenging him to a race and then setting off at a sprint while the fastest man on earth was still posing for the photographers

Some of the interviewees, including veteran royal-watchers Nicholas Owen and Arthur Edwards, pointed out that Harry goes potty for a particular type of girl — blonde, brainy and kooky, more likely to be found at Glastonbury than Glyndebourne.

That’s Joss to a tee. She’s a long-standing friend of Harry’s: you’d have to assume that she, like Cressida Bonas and Chelsy Davy, doesn’t much fancy being a princess.

Without exclusive comments from Harry, there wasn’t much this programme could do except tell a well-worn story, and it did it well. But we can expect fresh press-calls in the next few days, as the Prince publicises his latest initiative — Invictus, an Olympics for wounded soldiers.

All the men and women who have served with Harry in the Armed Forces say the same thing: he’s the kind of bloke you can share a pint with. Add to that his natural ease on camera, and he fits the dream formula for entrepreneur Steve Bennett’s gem salesmen.

With his second wife, Sarah, and nine other members of his extended family, Steve runs the Genuine Gemstone Company, selling costume jewellery direct to the public via a cable TV channel. Gems TV (ITV) didn’t use the phrase ‘costume jewellery’, of course. Steve wanted us to believe that the stones he was flogging were like chunks of the Crown Jewels, and that the only reason High Street outlets charged thousands for a sparkler was the iniquitous mark-up.

Steve explained he kept his prices so low — a tenner for a ring, 20 quid for a necklace — because he pared his profits down to pennies. It’s a spiel that would make Del Boy proud.

His semi-precious gems, such as tourmaline, tanzanite and specetite garnets, certainly sparkled. So did the TV hosts, keeping up a stream of patter to the viewers while Steve micromanaged every on-screen jewellery auction, instructing the presenters over the headsets what to say and when to drop their prices.

Steve (left) explained he kept his prices so low — a tenner for a ring, £20 for a necklace — because he pared his profits down to pennies. It’s a spiel that would make Del Boy proud

But the really interesting people were the purchasers, who snapped up bawbees the way Elizabeth Taylor collected diamonds. They became choked with emotion as they showed off their treasures — there was a fascinating story here, but this programme didn’t mine deep enough to discover it.